Brother
by Let me rule
Summary: After four years of no contact, Dean returns to Palo Alto from his third deployment with the USMC to watch his little brother graduate. Despite the tearful reunion, all is not as well with the Winchesters as they would lead the other to believe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is AU. Mary's still dead, John's still..well, John, Sam still went to Stanford. But there is no supernatural, nothing to hunt. After Sam left, Dean joined the Marines and lost all contact with his little brother.**

* * *

 _When it's all said and done_

 _And you're a little worse for wear_

 _And it hurts, having someone take care of you._

 _I'll never let you go, never let you go_

 _Even when the madness is tearing you apart._

X Ambassadors, "Brother"

* * *

It was two words that spurned a revolution.  
"I'm leaving."  
Two words said with a jaw set in rebellion, eyes that were misty behind a shade of solid will.  
Two words said with a slam of a door and then footsteps echoing down a street.  
The last two words Dean heard from his little brother.  
It was 4 years ago that Sam took everything he owned and hitchiked to California.  
Full ride to Stanford...Dean shook his head. Only Sam.  
The stage was set high, but he could still see a mop of dark hair attached to a ridiculously lanky body that could only be his brother. He was standing with a pretty girl with blonde hair, laughing. Damn, the kid must have grown a good five inches.

* * *

The ceremony was long. Sam graduated magna cum laude.  
(of course he did).

* * *

Dean wasn't the only one in uniform. Two men, one a Colonel, the other an Airman, waylaid him in the reception. Any other time, sure. But now, Dean really just wanted to see his brother. There was a group of kids, still in cap and gown, huddled around the cake table. Dean could make out a distinctive laugh between the rest.

Sam saw him before he could say a word. Didn't recognize Dean at first. (Dean had changed too. Less hair, more height, more muscle.) Sam did a double take. Dean watched,worrying the rim of his cover, as Sam's face went through about six different expressions.  
Dean pushed through a couple, mumbling apologies, and met his brother halfway. "Sammy."  
Sam's eyes were watering. He threw himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders.  
"D.."  
Sam was taller than him. A _lot_ taller.

* * *

They musta hugged for a solid five minutes. When they finally separated, Dean was wiping his eyes.  
"You're an asshole. " Sam informed him, smiling with watering eyes and a red nose.  
"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Sam's apartment was tiny. A living room with a couch and mismatched ottoman. A kitchen that barely fit a four person table. One bathroom. One bedroom. There was a picture- Dean was probably 18, Sam 14. They were sitting on bleachers at one of the nine high schools they attended, grinning from ear to ear. It was old, torn, in a picture frame on the dresser.  
"It's small." Sam had discarded the gown. He was wearing jeans underneath. (Typical.)  
He stood in the doorway, watching Dean pick up and study the frame. " But it's mine. Well, mine and Jess's." The blonde. She and Sam had been dating nearly four years, Sam was saving up money for a ring. She was with her parents and would be coming back later.  
Dean couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.  
"You did good, Sammy."

* * *

They were sitting on the couch. Some baseball game was on. It was kinda dark out, but neither had moved to turn on the lights. Dean had long since discarded his dress uniform.  
"Marines, huh?" Sam sipped a beer.  
"Yeah." Dean gave a mirthless laugh. "You left. Dad...Dad went crazy. Drank way too much. One night he came home, we got in a fight. He hit me hard." Dean motioned to the scar on his jawline. "Dad broke my jaw."  
Sam was watching him with a mixture of defiance and revulsion.  
"It was wired shut for, like, six weeks. I skipped out on Dad, took the car. I just started driving, ended up in this tiny town. Got a job bartending. I started talking to this regular, a marine recruiter. Told me I'd a get $10,000 bonus for signing on. And boot camp started in 3 months. So I did."  
"And Dad?"  
Dean shrugged. " Haven't talked to him since. Did tours in Kandahar, Iraq, Syria. I got transferred here after I got back last week.  
Sam's face split into a wide grin.  
"Here? You got transferred to Palo Alto?"  
Dean smiled. That reaction was exactly what he'd been waiting for.  
"I'm here for two years minimum."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is a little bit military vocab heavy, so here's some definitions:**

 **ROTC- Reserve Officer Training Corps. College kids who will become officers after they graduate.**

 **IED- Improvised Explosive Device, AKA a bomb.**

 **SSTG- Staff Sergeant. It's the second "leader" rank in the USMC**

 **PTSD- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Prevalent among soldiers and victims of abuse.**

* * *

 _Brother, let me be your fortress_  
 _When the night winds are driving on_  
 _Be the one to light the way_

 _Bring you home_

Needtobreathe, "Brother"

* * *

Despite the teary, soap opera start, seeing Sam daily again sparked old arguments both had forgotten existed in desperate attempts to pedestalize the memory of the other.

It was late. Sam had been working on applications to law school all day. Jess was studying for her nursing exam in the kitchen, humming to herself.  
Dean had just gotten back from a training weekend. One of the new ROTC cadets had broken her leg falling from the climbing tower. He could still hear that ear-splitting scream. Deciding that sitting in a dark apartment alone was less than ideal, Dean crashed in Sam's living room, watching Spanish soaps. One of the characters was stabbed pretty dramatically, and Dean was watching the TV on obnoxiously high volume.  
"Dean! Turn it down!" Sam snapped from the bedroom.  
"Can't, little brother." Dean cracked another beer and raised the volume.  
"Why the hell not?" Sam stamped out from the bedroom and stood in front of the TV.  
"IED, two years ago. Blew out my hearing in this ear." Dean said, tapping the scars that ran from his jaw to his ear.  
Sam looked torn between irritation and pity, jerking his head awkwardly from the scars on Dean to Jess, who shrugged her shoulders.  
"Oh. Uh, okay. Just, turn on subtitles. I really gotta finish these applications."  
"Yeah." Dean nodded, then raised it another degree. Somehow, the screams that came from being stabbed and breaking a femur were eerily similar.

* * *

Dean ended up crashing on Sam's couch, as he did every week or so when his apartment got too small and dark and silent. When he woke a couple hours later with his stomach twisting in knots and the remnants of a hoarse yell echoing in his ear, he dully noted the blanket that Jess musta thrown over him. He sat up straight, hands white-knuckling the blanket. _Breathe_ , he reminded himself. _You're in Palo Alto, in Sam's apartment. You're a SSTG in the Marine Corps. You're 26 years old, and you're alive. It was just a nightmare._  
Yeah.  
Didn't help.  
Dean barely made it to the bathroom before he was retching violently, trying to rid his mouth of the dust and stench that had settled there.  
Behind him, he heard the others stirring.  
"Sam.." Jess was saying. "Sam, it's Dean!"  
There was a crash and some heavy running and the lights to the bathroom switched on.  
"Dean! What happened, are you sick?"  
Dean felt Sam's hands on his shoulders and leaned further into the toilet. Cheap motels and cigarettes had mixed with the dirt, and it really wasn't helping with the nausea.

* * *

It took a while, but Dean managed to drag his head up.  
"M' fine." He lied. " Musta been that burger I had earlier."  
Sam looked unconvinced. He kept his hands on Dean's shoulder as he sat back, wiping his brow.  
"Dean-"  
"I'm _fine_." It came out more forcefully than he had meant.

* * *

"I don't think it was food poisoning." Jess announced, removing the thermometer from Dean's mouth. Sam looked up from where he was sitting on the kitchen table.  
"Why? Is he sick?"  
"No, he's not, no fever."  
"Ya know, I am an adult. Got a drivers license and everything." Dean said irritably. He had been all but forced onto the couch, blanket thrown around him and a glass of water pushed into his hand with a direct order to drink it all.  
Jess and Sam ignored him.  
"I think he probably just needs some rest." Jess said. "Why don't you head in to bed, I'll clean up."  
Sam nodded, and with one more witheringly pitying look towards Dean, went back to his bedroom.  
Jess began cleaning, putting away her thermometer.  
"Thanks, Jess, but I can do it. I'm really-"  
"Dean, look." Jess sat down opposite him. "I just finished my psych rotation out at the naval hospital. One of the first things they teach us is how to recognize signs of PTSD."  
Dean scoffed. That term had been thrown at him so many times it was meaningless.  
"I'm fine." He repeated.  
"Anxiety, nightmares, irritability." Jess ticked off on her fingers. "Sound familiar?"  
"No."  
"Yes, it does. And you know how I know?"  
Dean didn't answer, fingers running over the scars on his jaw.  
"Sam was diagnosed a few years ago. He's a lot better now, but it was the same as you. The nightmares, the moods."  
"Sam hasn't been deployed three times to the middle of hell." Dean muttered.  
"Dean...I know it 's not all that. I know about your Dad." Jess said factually.  
Dean stiffened. He was not having this conversation. He laid down, facing away from her.  
"You're probably right," He said, feigning casually. "Probably just need some rest. 'Night."  
Jess understood. She got up, and Dean could hear the footsteps back into the room, the careful shut of the door.


End file.
